Tempus Fugitus
by Grail
Summary: A tale of Revenge


Tempus Fugitus  
  
Prologue:  
  
The world spins to black as Jared Holton falls to the ground. A gaping shotgun wound in his chest. Somehow though he can still hear his assailants.  
  
"Fucking pig...shoulda known better. Fuck im. He's outta the picture now."  
  
Dirt fills his mouth as his head bounces off of the Nevada desert. the lights of the Las Vegas strip shimmering in the distance.   
  
  
Middle:  
  
Two years later.  
  
Jared Holton sits in the hot sun not knowing where or why he is. A jet black crow hops madly at his feet. Pecking at his rotting shoes.   
  
"Go away. I don't want to live. Let me crawl back into the worm hole I came from.", yet even as he speaks it he knows it is impossible.   
  
The crow cocks it's head to the side. It knows. And he knows what it knows. He was not who they were looking for. Tears stream down his face as he stands, jagged and rotting in the searing sun.   
  
"MURDERER!!!!....MURDERER....", he startles the bird into flight as he begins his trek back to the city that never missed him.   
  
He enters the city limits at the beginning of a smoky ash filled night. Somewhere in the city fires rage as a riot ensues. No one will see him and no one will care. No one except for the man who took his life. 24 years old. A rookie. New to the city and the force. Parents both dead. He had no one. He had nothing. His life had been taken from him. Now he would make sure the man who killed him would never forget the day that death came for him. He had no intentions of killing the man. He would make him suffer for awhile, but ultimately he will only remember. Each night he will spend weeping. Bitter irony that his life will be taken from him, but he will remain alive.   
  
The strip seems dead tonight. Fitting that death is in the air. Jared is death and he knows it. He is the reaper. His winged companion veers off to the left and lands on an awning of a local chinese restaraunt. A man peers out of the grimy window. Jared tries to smile at the man but only manages to crack what little of his leathery skin remains on his face. The man shuts the curtains and deadbolts can be heard tumbling into place. He looks through the crows eyes and sees a man of about 30 getting into a car. Fat pockets lined with greed and drug money adorn him. In his waistband a pistol. A pistol that will not do much good. Jared laughs and begins running full tilt towards the car. The crow perched on his shoulder. He stops inches from the front of the car and crouches. The street is dark and the man in the car is too busy lighting his cigarette to notice as he begins to pull away. A squeal of tires and a sickening thud cause him to slam on the brakes. The mans head slams into the steering wheel causing small rivulets of blood to streak down into his eyes. His vision blurred he jumps out of the car.  
  
Rubbing his eys on the sleeves of his white shirt, "Fuck! What the hell was that?".  
  
Jared stands up from in front of the car. Knees cracking, "OUCH!".   
  
The man jumps in fright, "Jesus, are you ok? Waitaminute...do I know you?"  
  
Jared starts toward the man, "Maybe. I don't know. I know that I don't know you, but I know what you've done.".  
  
The man staggers for a moment, still not able to focus properly, "What do you mean?".  
  
The crow flies off Jared's shoulder and lands on the hood of the mans car, pecking at the paint job.  
  
"Murderer.".  
  
A gun flashes in the car's headlights. "Who the fuck are you?".  
  
Jared stops just short of the man. "I am your victim.".  
  
The man fires the gun into Jared's chest. "Wrong asshole, but you will be.".  
  
Jared drops to the ground and the crow caws softly.  
  
Satisfied, the man opens the door to the car, gets in and begins to backup. As he's backing up Jared jumps onto his hood. "Murderer!".  
The man slams on the brakes as hard as he can but Jared hangs on. Jared reaches in through the windshield, shattering it and throws the man out of the car. The man reaches for the gun but Jared kicks him in the face.   
  
"Bullshit...you can't be....".  
  
"Bulls do shit...but I ain't lying and yes...yes it's me. Do you want to know my name?".  
  
Through clenched teeth the man spits blood out, "Fuck you!".  
  
Jared reaches for the gun. "My name is...well it was Jared Holton. I was a cop.".  
  
"You were a cop on the take who muscled my boys. I sent out a warning on the streets.".  
  
"You got the wrong guy."  
  
"Well boo fucking hoo...you fucking psycho. I thought you was dead."  
  
"I am.". Jared steps on the man's arms, as he lay there in a pose of crucifiction. Leaning down he lay the muzzle of the gun flat on the back of each of the man's hands and pulled the trigger. Leaving only bloody stumps. Then turing the gun on himself, half of Jared's head fell limply to the street. As Jared walked back to the desert with the crow on his shoulder, a man with no hands lay in the street screaming.  
  
  
Ending:  
  
"Fucking weirdest thing man. Only witness was an old Chinese guy, says this dickhead just pulled a gun on himself and blew off his own hand."  
  
The paramedic slammed the door shut of the ambulance.  
  
"How the hell did he blow off his other hand?"  
  
  
  
  
FINI  
  



End file.
